What's What?
by Cassandra Elise
Summary: Tara Turns to Crime. Siegfried Travels the Straight and Narrow. Steed Fills Max's Shoes. Emma Becomes a Number. Chapter SIX is here! Updated 4-17-04. OMG! Seven months have gone by! This chapter is short, but at least I updated.
1. First Day The Trouble Begins

Author's Note: I know the plot isn't the most original, but it creates great humour. Furthermore, the sub-plots should be intricate and interesting. ;)   
  
Another Note: This story contains SPOILERS. If you haven't read my other fics, starting with "Mother Knows Best," you might get confused.   
  
The AVENGERS   
  
The gentle whirring of a peculiar shaped machine was the only noise in the room. The machine had two seats, separated by a control panel filled with flashing lights, buttons, and dials. Suspended above the seats were two domes meant to be lowered over the head of the unfortunate sitter.  
  
A man dressed in a scientist's white coat stood next to the contraption, examining it. Sewn on his coat was a vulture on a globe and the words KAOS. Off to the right of this piece of equipment was another scientist similarly dressed except minus the KAOS emblem.  
  
The first scientist said quite earnestly, "Your machine is very impressive, Dr. Krelmar. I was surprised to learn that no one else had snatched it up before KAOS came along to buy it."  
  
The second man, Krelmar, spoke, "Several people and organizations did try to buy my baby, but I would have none of it."   
  
"Well, I'm glad KAOS was so convincing," the first scientist replied sardonically as he nodded towards a third man.   
  
This man was attired in a black turtleneck, black pants, and a black leather coat. And in his hand, pressed firmly against Dr. Krelmar's temple, was a gun. "I want to see this machine in action," the third man demanded.   
  
"Patience, Fred; you will, you will." The evil KAOS scientist smiled nefariously before shutting the machine off. "Lock up Dr. Krelmar and bring me Agents 86 and 99! We shall see who is the superior agency, KAOS, or their CONTROL!"  
  
Fred dragged Dr. Krelmar, protesting and struggling, from the room. The KAOS scientist glanced once more at the machine and was about to leave the chamber, when the shadows of two people appeared in the door frame. "Ah! Our newest KAOS members. Have you come to inspect the machine?"  
  
"We've seen it before, remember?" the bitter voice of a female rang out.  
  
"We've lived it before," an insipid male voice added.  
  
The figures stepped into the light, revealing themselves to be John Steed and Emma Peel's archenemies, Basil and Lola.  
  
What's What???  
  
Tara Turns to Crime  
  
Conrad Travels the Straight and Narrow  
  
Steed Fills Max's Shoes  
  
Emma Becomes a Number   
  
First Day  
  
Mrs. Emma Steed, nee Peel nee Knight, finished washing the dishes and casually entered her living room. She wondered where her husband had disappeared to so quickly after lunch. At least her nine month-old child was right where she had left her: sprawled on a blanket, clutching a teddy bear.   
  
"How's my Katie doing?" Emma asked as she knelt on the floor so she could be eye level with her baby.  
  
Katie pursed her lips together, ready to speak. "*Miwee Deel*!" She pushed herself up into sitting position.  
  
Emma was quite perplexed at what her child was saying. Katherine knew how to speak the typical words, such as *mummy*, *daddy*, and *bobba*, which could be translated either as *bottle*, or *I want any kind of food NOW*. But the statement *Miwee Deel* was utterly new to the still learning mother.  
  
"What are you trying to say, my love?" Mrs. Steed whispered dulcetly.  
  
Katie's large, liquid eyes were even wider as she repeated the message. Her chin was shot up almost defiantly, as if she expected her mother to understand her babble. Emma looked into those grey pools that were Katie's eyes and felt a stab of discomfort at not being able to understand her.  
  
"Try it again, Katie dear," Emma cajoled.  
  
This time as Katherine Tara Steed spoke, another distant voice was heard coaching her. With the two voices working together, Mrs. Steed made out, "*Miwis Peel*!"  
  
Then she understood everything. Her husband had taught her pet name, "Mrs. Peel," to the child, probably in the same manner as you teach a parrot, and he had been the quiet voice she had just heard. "All right, Steed, where are you?" she demanded, that annoyed smirk of hers flitting across her mouth.  
  
Before she had a chance to look for her husband, Steed popped out from behind his red leather sofa. "We're needed!"  
  
******************  
  
  
  
"Dr. Krelmar went missing earlier this month," Steed informed his wife as they strolled down the corridor to their superior's office.  
  
"Wasn't he just given parole?" Emma inquired.  
  
"Exactly, which is why we highly doubt he went into hiding to create one of his new contraptions. We strongly believe he was kidnapped."  
  
"We?" Emma echoed.  
  
"Didn't you know that H and I have already been over the case? He'll fill you in on all the details." Steed opened the door to a well furnished office and allowed his wife to enter first.   
  
H was ruthless, gravely serious, and as authoritative as a boss could be. In short, he ran the M15 division like it was the military. H was often belittled by the other leaders in the agency for his strict policies. The boss of M16, M, seemed particularly adverse to H's behaviour, but no one took M seriously since he had the rowdiest spy under his jurisdiction, Agent 007.  
  
After giving his formal "hello's, to his favourite agents, H informed Emma of the situation. "We believe that KAOS has something to do with this scheme."  
  
"What makes you so sure?" Mrs. Steed asked, seating herself in one of the plush chairs.  
  
"Just for the simple fact that only two people alive would be concerned over what Kremlar was doing, and these two people are suspected of having escaped from prison and joined KAOS."  
  
Mrs. Peel gazed squarely into her superior's eyes as she questioned, "Are these two people Basil and Lola?"  
  
"I'm afraid so," H sighed. "That is the only reason I summoned you two for the job. You are already familiar with their diabolical ways, and thus you should be able to deduce their next moves."  
  
"At which KAOS outpost are they suspected of hiding?" Emma Peel asked.   
  
"Evidence shows that Basil and Lola have taken refuge at the Washington D.C. branch. I have assigned you two foreign partners for this case, but I want you take backup from our own ministry as well."  
  
Steed snapped his fingers before he declared, "Tara King will be more than eager to assist us."  
  
"Fine, she shall accompany you two," H conceded. "You have never worked on an international level before, have you?"  
  
"Not at this ministry, but at the other one with Mother," Steed replied.  
  
"Well, we travelled to Germany in order to rescue Tara when she was in the clutches of that sadistic Siegfried," Emma reminded her husband.  
  
"Do you think you'll need any more backup?" H queried the two.  
  
"I think that with us, Miss King, and our two foreign correspondences, we will be able to work out this case in no time," Emma said confidently.  
  
  
  
"Your plane leaves for Washington in two hours. Passports and other formalities have been taken care of. Good luck on your mission, and return home soon." H handed them two files filled with information and passports. "Who knows, if you do this well enough I might give you the honour of greeting the leader from that African country Zalania."  
  
Silently, Emma and Steed strode to the door. Just before he exited the vicinity, Steed inquired, "Which two Americans will we have the pleasure of working with?"  
  
  
  
"You're partners will be," H cleared his throat nervously, "the top CONTROL agents, Maxwell and Mrs. Smart."  
  
  
  
Steed grimaced at the thought of the beady-eyed man with the annoying accent and bumbling manners. "We will never make it out of this mission alive," he muttered audibly.  
  
  
  
Mrs. Steed laid a gentle hand on his shoulder as she whispered, tongue planted firmly in cheek, "At least he'll be wreaking havoc in his own country and not ours like last time. So even if we do not make it, at least we can be assured that Great Britain will be safe."  
  
Steed managed to smile wryly at her remark. "Patriotism really does suit you, Mrs. Peel!" The couple marched out of the building side by side as was their normal custom.  
  
**************  
  
Tara King entered her massive apartment with a pensive sigh. She had been out on her daily walk, breathing in the October air and taking in the sights of London. It never ceased to amaze her how much London changed weekly. She was not certain why she had sighed so broodingly, but it could be because she was exhausted from the exercise, or because she was thinking of HIM again.  
  
At one time, her thoughts would have been plagued with John Steed, the immaculate gentleman and intellectual spy; but ever since June, it was the thought of someone else that constantly distracted her. Tara wondered if it would be prudent to tell anyone of her new fascination, or if they would think she was insane.  
  
Sighing involuntarily, she entered her bedroom where she removed her coat with the blue, green, and yellow stripes. She flicked at an imaginary fuzz on her white, turtleneck before placing her hands on her shapely hips. Glancing at her mirror, she discovered she looked rather slim in her navy blue pants. The exercise was working wonders for her figure, not that she had needed much improvement. But due to stress she had gained several pounds that had, for almost a year, refused to budge.  
  
"I wonder if he would like the results," she murmured to herself, her playful smile on her lips. With an outward groan she realised she had thought of HIM again. "If this keeps up I might have to seek professional help."   
  
A knock on her front door interrupted her unpleasant musings. Almost guiltily, she answered the door, as if the person behind it had heard her meditations. Her visitor was the postman, who presented her with the bills from last month's shopping spree and a thin letter. Tara shut the door, still gazing at the note. It was from a dim-witted thug by the name of Herr Starker, right-hand man of HIM, Siegfried.  
  
Tara ripped open the envelope in a record time. The contents were brief, but meant the world to Miss King.  
  
Dear Tara,   
  
Siegfried and me are in the states agan. We had bin in Burrmooda, cuz we wur hiding frum the bad police. Now we are in Washintun. Dc in a smelly hideout. I hav drewed a map so you can cum se me. It is with this note. I luv yoo, mein leibling!  
  
Luv,  
  
Starker Poo  
  
  
  
A lengthy postscript filled with many clichés on finding love and losing it followed the letter. A second postscript listed Tara's many attributes, including a complete physical description that could only be labelled as, "too flattering." After a quick perusal of the letter's contents, Tara poured over the map. Despite his many spelling errors, Starker could draw a detailed map.  
  
"I should be able to find his hideaway without any difficulties," Tara declared in raptures. Whether she was referring to Starker or his boss Siegfried was an enigma.  
  
Her ecstasy was short-lived, for another knock on the door returned her to the real world. Hurriedly, she folded the noted and map into tiny segments, stuffed them in the band of her pants, and opened her front door. Unfortunately, the new caller was knocking her back door! Tara ran down the stairs and raced up to her back door. When she opened that door, she discovered John Steed and his wife Emma, who was holding Katie.  
  
"Is anything wrong? Did we call at a bad time?" Emma asked politely.  
  
Panting, Tara inquired, "What makes you think that?"  
  
"You're very flushed and agitated, that's all." Mrs. Peel stepped over the threshold into what she considered a garish flat.  
  
Tara giggled as she shut the door, almost catching Steed's brown coat sleeve in the process. "I just came back from a mile-long walk, and then I opened the wrong door. I had to run all the way back down the stairs just to get to you two."  
  
"Why didn't you just ride down on your pole?" Steed nodded in the direction of a gold pole, much like the ones found in a fire station. It had been placed by the front door so Tara had an easier way of coming down to ground level.   
  
"Look, if you came here just to interrogate me, I suggest you leave now! I am in no mood for such childish behaviour." Tara's defensive manner was enough to end the conversation.  
  
"We just came here to ask you if you wanted to accompany us on a little trip to America," Steed explained, putting on all his charm.  
  
Tara relaxed as she asked, "Where are we going and what's the occasion?"  
  
"We're going to Washington D.C., and the occasion is-" Steed trailed off as he realised Miss King had bolted into her bedroom.  
  
"I'll be packed in thirty minutes, I promise you!" she shouted from her chamber.  
  
Mrs. Peel exchanged an amused look with her husband. Steed smiled but inwardly he was wondering why Miss Tara was so eager to accompany them.  
  
*************  
  
The bullets ricocheted off the stone building, the sound deafening as it reverberated through the air. Three men attired from head to toe in black were dashing around corners, firing revolvers at intervals and trying to avoid being shot by a lone man in a grey suit.   
  
This man was hidden behind an empty crate and had beady black eyes, dark hair, and a strange grin on his face. "All right, fellas," he began in a nasal voice, "it looks like you're outnumbered." He stepped from behind his protection, his gun cocked cheekily to the right.  
  
The three men stared at the solitary man and burst out laughing. "Really, Mr. Smart," began one of them, "What makes you think you can defeat us all?"  
  
"Just because at this very moment, there are forty police officers surrounding this alleyway in their shiny new cars. Would you believe it, forty officers?"  
  
"We find that hard to believe," droned the trio, as if this was an old custom.  
  
"Would you believe fourteen cadets are on their motorcycles?" After receiving three sceptical gazes, Mr. Smart continued, "How about a house detective on a battered bicycle?"  
  
"Grab him!" one of the men commanded.   
  
Smart dashed behind his crate and pulled the trigger of his gun again. It seemed the fortune of the luckiest man alive had run out, for he had no bullets left. Raising his hands in surrender he stepped out from behind the box to meet the barrels of three loaded revolvers.  
  
To Be Continued! OH NO! THE EVIL CLIFFHANGER!   
  
Note: I have not forgotten my other story, "The Agent Test." It just seems my muse has! That's right. I'm suffering from that dreaded disease that plagues all authors at one time or another, writer's block. PLEASE be patient with me while I try to overcome this obstacle. 


	2. First Afternoon The Swap Takes Place

First Afternoon  
  
An extremely tall and slender woman dressed in typical sixties garb paced the floor anxiously. Her blue eyes kept glancing at the door, as if she was expecting someone to arrive. Indeed she was, for this was Mrs. Smart, and she was waiting impatiently for her husband's return. "I'm getting worried, Chief," she announced to a balding, elderly man behind a desk.  
  
"I know, 99, but all we can do is wait." Chief tried to be consoling as he added, "Mr. And Mrs. Steed will arrive shortly to assist us."  
  
"I just don't understand what went wrong," Agent 99 complained. "Max called two hours ago and said he had a great lead on the Krelmar case that couldn't be ignored. I would think he'd contact us by now, via his shoephone."  
  
"I'd hate to have to say this, but I believe Max has been taken prisoner by KAOS . . . again." Chief grimaced as he counted the myriad of times Agent 86 was taken captive when on a mission.  
  
"Oh my poor, Max, in the clutches of KAOS!" 99 seemed to take every disappearance of her husband as a sure sign that he would never return.  
  
"Can you remember anything from your conversation with Max earlier that would lead us to him?"  
  
Mrs. Smart paused, recalling the brief discussion with her husband. "He said he was going to an alleyway on this little street called-I'm so agitated I can't remember!"  
  
Chief's intercom buzzed and the voice of one of his workers spoke. "Chief, there are three British people and a baby requesting permission to come in to your office."  
  
"Well, send them in Larabee; don't dawdle!" Chief exchanged a significant look with Agent 99 as if to say, "How do such morons get into the agency?"  
  
"But aren't Basil and Lola British? Maybe these four are them in disguise!"  
  
"Larabee, how can two agents be disguised as four different people, a little baby being one of them?" Chief's voice was becoming more aggravated by each stupid comment his employee made.  
  
"I don't know, Chief, but KAOS can do some pretty strange things."  
  
"LARABEE, if you don't send in those three agents in the next ten seconds, I will personally see that your job is reduced to that of the coffee break monitor!"  
  
"But chief," protested the stupidest agent in CONTROL, "you already did that last week! I was only answering the intercom because your secretary was killed in duty three days ago!"  
  
Before Chief could espouse numerous maledictions, Steed entered the office. "Good afternoon, you must be the Chief," he said jovially, the sliding door shutting behind him and his two female comrades.  
  
"And you must be John Steed," Chief replied, grateful for the interruption of yelling at Larabee. He surveyed the two women and asked, "Which one of you ladies is the lucky Mrs. Steed?"  
  
"Emma is the wife, and I'm just a friend, Tara King!" Tara exclaimed brightly. No one deemed this odd, except the Steeds, who knew her. Usually Miss King would glumly admit that Emma was the fortunate bride of Steed and then stare longingly at him.   
  
Emma recovered her wits first and smiled gregariously at the two Americans. "I was expecting to see Mr. Smart, but it seems he's not here." She shifted Katie's weight from one hip to the other.  
  
"No, he's been kidnapped, the poor darling!" Mrs. Smart cried.  
  
"I'm sorry we met under such unfortunate circumstances," apologised the Chief.  
  
"Of course, with Maxwell Smart, what circumstances aren't unfortunate?" Steed asked wryly.   
  
Tara bit her lip to keep from chuckling. She did not wish to offend Mrs. Smart, especially since she had so graciously taken part in Miss King's rescue mission that previous summer even though they had never met before. Instead she asked, "So what is the itinerary? Do we go in search of Max? Do we even know where Max, or any of the people we're looking for are?"  
  
"I know he was checking out a lead down a certain alleyway, but I can't remember street names or anything!" 99 replied despairingly.   
  
"Perhaps, if you calmed down and stopped your pining, you could think more clearly," Emma soothed. "Your husband will come home safe and unharmed."  
  
"Pining . . . that's it! Pine Boulevard was the name of the street!" Mrs. Smart's elation was contagious, and soon the whole group was grinning, including Katie.  
  
"There's not a moment to waste, so let's head off!" Steed turned to the sliding door but checked himself and whirled to face Tara. "Since you're our backup, why don't you stay with Katie and the chief?" He twirled his brolly around his right hand several times as he waited for an answer.  
  
"I suppose I could get acquainted with Chief and American customs," Tara sighed in defeat, grabbing Katherine.  
  
Emma and 99 looked impatient to leave, so without another word, Steed led the way out of CONTROL headquarters. The three agents travelled to the appointed alley in a badly damaged taxicab. The cabby drove erratically down the congested streets of Washington, barely avoiding hitting a limousine that undoubtedly held some high-ranking officials. By the time they reached Pine Boulevard, Steed's knuckles were tense from gripping his wife's arm and his face was ashen. Mrs. Steed would have found this entertaining if it weren't for the fact that she had lost the circulation in the arm that he was holding. She for one enjoyed an adventurous and fast ride in an automobile.  
  
The trio stepped out of the vehicle, and Mrs. Smart paid the cab-driver. They entered the alley with their eyes darting over every crate, corner, and trash can. "Steed, look at this," Emma commanded, bending down to investigate a small, rectangular item.  
  
The article was an unusual punch card with a photo of a deadly looking man in the upper right corner. On the left side, just above the punched holes, was the data on the man. "Sid Kabob, agent 419 of the Washington D.C. KAOS HQ," Steed read.  
  
"This card is part of a new security system KAOS has started," 99 explained. "Computers are placed at each door and you have to put this punch card in the machine in order to open the door."  
  
"How very careless of Mr. Kabob to have dropped this," John Steed murmured as he deliberated over this new information. It seemed too incredibly easy that they should come across this punch card. Perhaps it was intended that they should find it as part of an elaborate plan to kill them, or maybe American spies were just that incompetent. Which idea was right?   
  
Steed said, "Hmm," which indicated he was done pondering over that seeming imponderable.  
  
Emma stood up and remarked, "It could be a trap." Sometimes it appeared she could read John's mind, and perhaps she really could! "After all, last time Basil and Lola captured us it was after we had followed some very simple clues to their hideout-clues they had been purposely placed in order that we should find them."  
  
"Trap or no trap, I'm going to this KAOS outpost to get my husband back." Seeing that Mrs. Smart was so determined to follow the clue, it was apparent there was no alternative but to go with her. If Emma and John left to her to her own devices in her present state of anger and concern, she was liable to get abducted herself.  
  
"Then you can depend on us to accompany you!" Steed proclaimed as confidently as he could.  
  
This settled, the trio hailed another taxi and drove to the KAOS headquarters.  
  
*************  
  
Max struggled against his bonds to no avail; he was securely fastened to a wooden chair. As he stared at the strange machine in front of him for the fifteenth time, he began to wonder what it did. Dr. Krelmar and another KAOS scientist entered the room, saving Mr. Smart from overworking his brain muscles.  
  
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Max started before being rudely interrupted.  
  
"Why isn't that idiot gagged?" the KAOS man demanded.  
  
Krelmar shrugged noncommittally as he answered, "I'm not one of your stooges. Why don't you ask them if you're so upset?"  
  
"May I just say that this contraption is the most exquisite piece of work I've seen in my life," Max announced to his two companions.  
  
Krelmar flushed in pride as he responded, "I worked on this brain switching device for three years and you can imagine my joy when it finally worked."  
  
"So it's a brain swapping machine, eh?" Maxwell repeated, his compliment having tricked the doctor into speaking. "When you first started working on this machine, who did you use for guinea pigs?"  
  
"I just grabbed some innocent bystanders from the street and told them they were doing a great deed for humanity." Shaking his head ruefully, Dr. Krelmar said, "So many of them became vegetables or madmen after the initial tests." He brightened and added, "But we certainly helped fill the insane asylums!"   
  
"There will be no more conversations between you two, do you understand?" the KAOS agent snapped.  
  
If Krelmar was going retort, it was never known, for Lola and Basil entered. "The Steeds fell for our trap, exactly as we had hoped!" Lola declared.  
  
"Yes, they're using that punch card on the backdoor right this moment!" Basil interjected. He strode over to Mr. Smart, grinning evilly. "Your wife is with them, oblivious to the ingenious torture we've concocted for you all!"  
  
"No, you diabolical mastermind," Max sputtered, "don't harm us all! Take 99 and set me free if you have to, but don't put us all through this torment!"  
  
"Your devotion for your wife is overwhelming," Lola commented sarcastically.  
  
"Silence; I hear them in the hall outside!" the KAOS agent hissed. "I think I can lure them into this room."  
  
At the same time in the hallway, John and Emma Steed and Mrs. Smart were creeping towards the room. "Any bets the persons we're after are in there?" Steed whispered.   
  
Before either of the ladies could reply, the KAOS scientist exited the chamber. Quickly, the three ducked into an adjacent room just as the KAOS man called, "Don't worry, Mr. Smart, you will soon be dead and have nothing to worry about!"  
  
From their hiding spot they watched him march down the hall they had been standing in seconds before. When he had disappeared, 99 spoke, "My poor Max is going to be killed!"  
  
"Yes, we could hear that," Steed retorted. He nodded in the direction of the room from which the scientist had emerged. "I think it's time to rescue your 'poor Max.'"  
  
The trio sneaked up to the door and threw it open. They were not surprised to find Basil and Lola waiting for them, but Emma and Steed were aghast to see a very active brain swapping machine standing in the centre. Without one word of acknowledgement to the bound Mr. Smart, the threesome attacked the adversary.  
  
Emma noted that Lola was heading in her direction, so she stepped to the side. Once Lola was next to her, Emma karate chopped her on the neck. This only injured Lola, and she retaliated by slapping Mrs. Steed in the face and kicking her legs out from under her. They were now pell-mell on the floor in a tangle of limbs. The catfight had begun.  
  
Steed found great satisfaction in pounding his fists into Basil's flesh. The pummelling was extremely one sided until Basil sat on one of the machine's chairs and raised his legs, propelling Steed away. Steed avoided the kicking legs in order to grab on to the dome and bring it down firmly on Basil's head.   
  
Cowering in a corner, Krelmar cried, "No, don't hurt my machine!"  
  
John ignored the doctor and dragged Basil from the seat by his necktie. He punched him once more in the nose for good measure. Basil, bloodied and bruised, grabbed Steed's own tie, but because Steed was more heavyset than he, he could not move him.   
  
The two exchanged nervous smiles, and Basil took this moment to bring his fist up into Steed's stomach. Doubling over in pain, Steed was unable to eschew the next round of Basil's onslaught. To complete John Steed's degradation, Basil used Steed's own bowler to render him unconscious.  
  
At the intervening time, 99 was intent on untying her husband, and fortunately the only opponents in the room were occupied with the Steeds. She completed her task, kissed Max lightly on the lips, and helped him stand. As they smiled at each other, several KAOS agents came barrelling down the hall. Mr. and Mrs. Smart ran to the door in an attempt to shut and lock it. However, there were four enemy agents, not including the scientist, and their bodies outweighed the two Smarts.   
  
Max and 99 tried to push the door closed, but on the opposite side, the KAOS men were shoving even harder. Soon the stalwart men burst through the door, knocking 99 and Maxwell off their feet. The Smarts hopped back up and began fighting the nearest antagonist, the KAOS scientist.  
  
99 smacked the scientist with her purse before motioning to her husband to make himself useful elsewhere. "I can handle him," she told Max, "if you deal with the others."   
  
The "others" included the four remaining KAOS men. In his typical fashion, Mr. Smart tried to hurt the brawniest man. "Take that, you fat pig!" he shouted defiantly, his hand swinging into his adversary's neck. This attack did not harm the hefty spy, who sneered at Max's feeble endeavour.  
  
Wrapping an arm around his enemy's shoulder, Max began, "I hope I wasn't out of line with that 'fat pig,' crack."  
  
In response, the agent grabbed the arm that was resting on his shoulder and twisted it. He tossed the short, fumbling agent to the other side of the room as if he weighed nothing. "Yes, you were out of line, but since you're going to get your brain switched around, that should make up for the insult."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it," Max replied, dizzy from being thrown. He managed to rise to his feet before promptly passing out.  
  
"Oh, MA-AX!" 99 cried in dismay. She was so perturbed over her spouse's fainting that she let the scientist grip her neck, squeezing the life out of her. "Mrs. Steed, please help me!" she rasped.  
  
Emma was still busy warding off Lola's assaults. So far the ladies had been equally injured, but Mrs. Steed noticed that Lola was growing tired. With one of her expert moves, Emma managed to flip Lola over her shoulders. Once satisfied that her opponent was out cold, Emma dashed over to the afflicted 99.   
  
Mrs. Peel grabbed at the hands that were choking her friend, but it was futile. The scientist was stronger than she. As Mrs. Smart fainted from being in the choke hold, Emma realised she was never going to subdue five male agents alone.   
  
She put up a valiant fight, kicking and karate chopping every assailant that came near her, but Emma, too, was conquered.  
  
When the Steeds and Smarts were all unconscious, the brain swapping scheme was put into action. Basil sat in one of the machine's chairs while the KAOS men place Steed in the other. Using the cuffs that were attached to the arms of the chairs, their hands were locked into place. The machine was switched on, just as two KAOS agents finished lowering the domes onto Basil and Steed's heads.  
  
"When I say 'now,' start counting to twenty," Krelmar ordered Basil.   
  
The KAOS scientist glanced from the machine to Krelmar's face. "This is all fascinating!"  
  
Krelmar switched several dials and yelled, "Now!"  
  
Basil obeyed the command eagerly-he was more than willing to switch bodies with the debonair and well-respected John Steed. When the process was finished, Basil mind was in John's body and vice versa. Nodding at the still unconscious Steed, Basil said, "Let's give the old fellow another reason to hate me." Steed's normally charming voice was filled with a hollow and menacing tone, the effects of having swapped bodies.   
  
"What do you plan to do?" Lola asked suspiciously. She gazed at the now tall and stately Basil. Steed certainly had an attractive figure; it almost was a pity that he now occupied Basil's unflattering body.  
  
"I'm just going to have Steed swap minds with that bungling Maxwell Smart." Basil smirked as Dr. Krelmar unfastened him from the seat.   
  
Krelmar shook his head at the mischief of Basil, declaring, "One of the members involved in the switching procedure has to be able to count to twenty, or their brains might be scrambled beyond repair."   
  
"All the better for us if it happens!" snapped Basil. "Now work the machine," he rummaged through the pockets of his old suit and produced a gun, "or die!"  
  
Krelmar began operating the contraption without further protestations. Soon Max and John had traded bodies, but nobody knew if they were now in a comatose state.  
  
This transaction completed, Lola exchanged bodies with Emma then made Emma swap with 99.   
  
"Mrs. Steed, how charming you look!" Basil declared to the new, improved Lola. He tried to make the inflection in his-erm-Steed's voice charming but failed.  
  
Lola gazed down at the bright blue catsuit she was now attired in and smiled. "What fashionable clothes Mrs. Steed owns! I'll be glad to take over her wardrobe."  
  
As they chatted about their new bodies, Max began to revive. He was lying on the floor, having been unceremoniously dumped there after his brain trade with Steed. He groggily heard the voices but could not comprehend what they were saying. All he remembered was one of the KAOS agents telling him he was going to have his brain swapped with somebody. He mustn't let that happen! He must destroy the machine!  
  
"You shall not have my body!" he shouted, heroically standing to his feet. He spotted the wooden chair he had been tied to and picked it up. He began smashing it against the machine, disregarding Dr. Krelmar's entreaties to stop. When the chair broke in his hands, Max used his own legs to kick the control box. The machine emitted unnatural beeps, as if it were crying in pain.  
  
John Steed groaned as he rolled over on his side. Who or what was making those loud, obnoxious noises? He spotted Basil yanking one of the machine's domes off its rod and knew he was his culprit. Then an odd sinking feeling filled the pit of his stomach. Why was Basil destroying the contraption that he had escaped from jail and joined KAOS just to use?  
  
Then Steed observed a reputable man in a brown suit, complete with matching bowler and umbrella. This man had his arms crossed over his chest. The look on his face was almost that of amusement, and the smile on his lips was definitely wicked. Next to his side was an auburn hair woman, gripping Dr. Krelmar so he wouldn't escape.  
  
  
  
"Good God, Basil's taken over my body again!" Steed cried in a strange nasal/Bronx accent. "And I'm in Max's shoes!"  
  
Steed staggered to his feet to face the ignorant Smart. "Stop, you'll wreck the machine!" John scratched at Max's new arm but failed to check his actions. Finally, Steed grabbed the blue collar of Basil's suit and twirled Max around. He smashed Basil/Max into the wall and demanded, "What are you trying to do? How can we switch back if you destroy the contraption?"  
  
  
  
Max glared as he tried to register who was the imbecile holding him by his collar. "Oh, it's just you, Agent 86. Would you kindly let me g-wait a minute, I'm agent 86!" Max peered into the face of the man gripping him and saw his own reflection staring back. "Who else has those beady black eyes, that winning grimace, and incredibly, thick black hair? Is it possible I have a twin brother, and Mom and Dad forgot to mention it?" Max asked, his voice sounding very British.  
  
"No, you fool, I'm John Steed, and we've swapped bodies, or you've swapped bodies with Basil or something!" Steed dropped Basil's body to the floor, not heeding his yelp of pain. As far as Steed was concerned, both Basil and Max deserved whatever damage he inflicted.  
  
"My machine, my poor machine . . . it's ruined!" sobbed Dr. Krelmar. "It took me years to make it and now it's destroyed!"  
  
Unadulterated fury in his eyes, Steed whirled to face the despondent scientist. "Are absolutely sure it's broken, Dr. Krelmar?"  
  
In reply, Krelmar pressed one of the buttons, and the machine sputtered to life before erupting in black smoke. "Basil and Lola, you're stuck in Steed and Mrs. Peel's body for eternity!"  
  
"With it broken beyond repair, how is KAOS supposed to use this machine for evil and nastiness?" complained the KAOS scientist.  
  
"Those are you problems," Basil said nonchalantly.  
  
"We took up residence at Steed and Mrs. Peel's flats before, and we don't mind doing it again, forever if that is the case," Lola told the two doctors. "Shall we go, Lover? We have plenty of chaos to create in our new bodies." The two linked arms and started for the door. "You can't leave us like this!" wailed Dr. Krelmar.  
  
Basil turned with a reprehensible grin to face the blubbering scientist. "You're absolutely right!" He pulled out his gun again and fired at Krelmar's heart.  
  
The doctor swaggered before slumping to the floor, dead. "He was becoming too much of a nuisance," Lola explain over the protests of the KAOS scientist.  
  
"But he was our only chance of rebuilding the machine!" the KAOS man bellowed. "Sure, we have the blueprints, but we don't have any scientist in our midst who is resourceful enough to make heads or tales out of those prints and build a new machine!"  
  
"That's your problem, old man," Basil reiterated.  
  
"Quit saying that; it's not just KAOS's problem! We made a deal with you and your woman that if we helped you escape from jail, you would find us this doctor with the body-switching device. Now both he and the contraption are dead, and KAOS ends up with the short end of the stick!"  
  
"At least CONTROL's best agents are permanently stuck in the body of wanted criminals!" Lola pointed out. "That should be of some comfort to you." Then the two enemy spies, in the body of Steed and Peel, exited the building.  
  
"I have been barbarously used!" The KAOS scientist stared stonily at Steed and Max before procuring three pellets from his white coat. He threw them on the floor, and the room was filled with smoke.  
  
Choking and coughing, Steed found himself losing consciousness again. He struggled to regain control, but it was fruitless; and in a matter a moments he succumbed to darkness.  
  
*************  
  
When John Steed came to, his first thought was that the last few minutes had been a nightmare. Alas, they hadn't been, and he realised he had to find a way of getting his body back. It was only after he had mused over this that he realised the room he was in was bare! Steed raced out into the hall only to discover this corridor was empty as well.  
  
KAOS had cleared out of that headquarters, leaving not a single clue of them ever being there! With nothing to go on, no papers to show them where these particular agents had gone, it was unlikely that Steed and his friends should ever get there bodies back.  
  
With a heavy heart, Steed returned to the room to awaken his wife and inform her of the horrific news.  
  
To Be Continued! 


	3. First Night Tara Turns to Crime

First Night and Second Day  
  
"Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall!" intoned Miss King and the Chief to little Katie. Since it had been three hours since they had last seen the Steeds and Smart, Tara and Thaddeus were trying desperately not to worry over their friends' safety. To distract themselves, they had been entertaining Katherine. "Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall."  
  
Just then, Larabee entered, toting a manila folder. He heard his boss and the English woman reciting poems and decided to join in. "All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty back together again!" Tara and Thaddeus stared at him blankly. "Is that the new sign and countersign, Chief?"  
  
Chief rolled his eyes as he answered, "No, Miss King and I were just playing with the Steeds' baby." He observed that the inept agent was holding a top-secret file. "Did you bring the information on Basil and Lola?"  
  
Larabee nodded, handed over the folder, and left the office, forgetting to close the sliding door behind him.   
  
"I think the Chief is quite finished with our little game," Tara surmised, bouncing Katie on her knee. Katie stuck two fingers in her mouth and turned to stare at the elderly man.  
  
Thaddeus did not hear Tara, for he was too occupied reading about the enemy agents. He soon became absorbed studying the coloured photographs of the two.  
  
It was at this moment that four people ran into his office, panting and speaking rapidly. "Chief, Chief, we need the best CONTROL scientists you can find!" came a distinct British voice.  
  
Chief wondered what strange man was addressing him and, looking up, perceived the face of Basil! "How did you get in here?" Chief demanded, as he rose to his feet.  
  
"The door was wide open! Gee, I didn't know you wanted us to knock first. Sorry about that, Chief!" Max turned to knock on the door but was checked by his irate employer.  
  
"How dare you impersonate Maxwell Smart! What have you done with him and 99, you KAOS killer?"  
  
"But we are 99 and Max," protested Mrs. Smart. With chagrin, she recalled that she and Max were now in the bodies of the enemy. It would not be an easy task convincing her boss that they were indeed Agents 86 and 99, but she had to try. "We swapped brains with Basil and Lola," she added.  
  
"Do you expect me to believe that implausible tale?" Thaddeus scoffed.  
  
Tara slinked into a corner, protecting Katie from the insane agents. She scanned the room and spotted two familiar faces: Agents 86 and 99. "There's Max and his wife!" she cried.  
  
"No," began the Max body, "I'm John Steed, and that's Mrs. Peel! What Basil-er-Max is saying is the truth!"  
  
"Max, you're delusional!" Chief gazed with concern at the five-foot seven inch spy. Despite Max's unbearable idiosyncrasies, Thaddeus thought of him as a son. He glared at the figure of Basil, hoping he would spontaneously combust. "What did you do to Max to put him in this hallucinatory mindset? Did you drug him, or hypnotise him?"  
  
Steed was becoming frantic. "I am perfectly fine, Chief, as is Max, and that man IS MAX!" He pointed at the body of Basil that, even with Max inhabiting it, seemed conceited and self-assured.  
  
Tara's mind was clicking at an abnormal rate. She recollected the story of Emma and John's incredible body-swap with Basil and Lola. Could it have happened again? "Chief, I believe that Basil-or whoever is in his body-is indeed telling the truth, and the same goes for Max-I mean, Steed."  
  
Chief desperately wanted to believe his friends and acquaintances, but there were certain things that just were too inconceivable. Sighing with resignation, he pressed a button on his desk and spoke into the intercom. "This is a red alert, I repeat, a red alert! We have two criminals in our building. Block all exits to CONTROL and send four men into my office right now!"  
  
Tara realised that the CONTROL men were certain to examine Steed and Emma for signs of drugs or brainwash and arrest Max and 99 for treason! She couldn't let this happen, but what chance did she have against four men, especially when her companions looked too tired to assist her? Then she remembered the gun in her purse.   
  
With Katie in the crook of one arm, Tara reached for her purse with her free hand. She silently unfastened her purse and searched it for her gun. Amidst the clutter of tissue, makeup and cough drops, she found it. She pointed it at Chief, shouting, "All right, call off that red alert, or I'll shoot you!"  
  
Everyone stared at her, agape. Chief recovered his composure first and declared, "I would rather die for my country than recall that red alert. These criminals need to be apprehended."  
  
Tara began to panic, but she quickly changed tactics. She aimed the weapon at the Max body, yelling, "Then I will murder Mr. Smart unless you call off that warning."  
  
"You better do what she says, Chief sir!" Steed remarked, cagily eyeing the gun that was aimed at him.  
  
Thaddeus had no choice but to acquiesce. "This is the Chief. That red alert was a false alarm; I repeat, false alarm. There are no criminals that need to be arrested, so nobody report to my office." After finishing his speech into the intercom, he glared at Miss King. "I hope there is a good reason for your outrageous behaviour."  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Smart, run as fast as you can," Tara ordered in a strangely calm tone. Max and 99 hesitated a moment before bolting out the door. "You'd better get out of here as well, Steed."  
  
"You're as crazy as the rest of them," Chief announced.  
  
Steed looked into Tara's eyes and realised that she believed their story. Mrs. Peel must have also sensed this, for she took Katie from Miss King's arm.   
  
"And you had better put that weapon away," Emma remarked dryly. Then, she and Steed left the room as well.  
  
"Max, 99, come back here this instant! And what are you doing with the Steed's baby in your arms, 99? Where ARE the Steeds, I'd like to know?" Chief was becoming quite panicked at all these strange occurrences.  
  
"I'm sorry, Chief sir, but I can't have you following my friends," Tara apologised. Then, she brought the blunt end of her gun down on his head. He slumped forward on his desk, unconscious.  
  
Tara fled CONTROL headquarters as quickly as was humanly possible. She made her way to the hotel where she and the Steeds were staying. Upon entering her own suite, she noted that the other spies had already assembled there.   
  
She walked up to the Max body and hugged him. "Poor, Steed, what on earth happened?"  
  
"We got our brains switched, isn't that obvious?" Steed retorted bluntly.  
  
"So Basil and Lola are occupying your bodies again?" Tara queried Mrs. Peel.  
  
"Yes, and we don't know what they're planning to do now that we've all switched." Mrs. Peel tried to hold Katherine, but she was squirming uncomfortably. "Katie has no idea that I'm really her mother," Emma said dejectedly.  
  
"Mommy?" the child asked, her eyes wide with fright. When her mother did not appear, Katie did the only sensible thing: she began to wail.  
  
Max plugged his ears and shouted, "How do we get our bodies back?"  
  
"We have to find a person who can make a new machine, and then locate Basil and Lola so we can make the switch," Steed yelled in reply.  
  
"The blueprints are with KAOS, and you heard that KAOS scientist. Nobody is smart enough to build that machine!" Max bellowed.  
  
There was no response, save Katie's subsiding sobs. Tara sighed as she place a thumb in the loophole of her pants. She felt something stiff in the band of the slacks, and her eyes brightened. Tara brought forth Starker's letter and exclaimed, "Siegfried can help us!"  
  
"Siegfried is my worst enemy, not to mention that he only helps himself," began Max. "So what makes you so sure he'll build this infernal contraption for us?"  
  
"It's just a gut feeling, but usually my instincts are right," Tara explained. "I have his address, so I'll simply pay him a friendly call tomorrow morning. Siegfried works for KAOS and is extremely intelligent, so he should be able to get those blueprints and then assemble this machine."  
  
Max was about to speak when his own voice interrupted him. "He should be able to?" Steed repeated. "That means there is a chance he fails, and then what?"  
  
"When that moment arrives, we'll think of something," interjected Emma.  
  
"In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed that I can convince Conrad von Siegfried to travel the straight and narrow!" Tara concluded.  
  
**************  
  
With trepidation, Tara approached the decrepit building. Her light pink dress billowed in the autumn breeze, and she had to hold on to her straw hat, even though it was secured to her head by a pink, gauzy ribbon. The short sleeves on her dress were the exact same material as the ribbon, while the gown's body was a silky floral print. On her feet were her knee-high, tan sandals.  
  
Tara wondered if her dressing up was in vain. Siegfried was not one to notice fashions, or even pretty faces for that matter.   
  
She inhaled and exhaled slowly before knocking on the door. Quiet; and then, there came the squeak of the door's hinges. A rush of movement dizzied her, and before she could regain her equilibrium, Tara found herself in the arms of a giant.  
  
"Mein Lieb, you have returned to me at last!" an exultant German cried.  
  
Tara discovered that the giant German was none other than Herr Starker. "It's good to see you too, Starker, but-"  
  
She was cut off, for Starker had dipped her back and was kissing her ardently on the lips. Miss King struggled to get out of his grasp, but it was futile. Then she heard footsteps and the distinctive voice of Conrad Siegfried.   
  
"Stop zat zis instant!" he ordered. His thug promptly set Tara King back on her feet. "If I've told you goons vonce, I've told you a zounsand times: do not bring your women folk to our hideouts!" Conrad spat out the words with all the contempt of the world. "We are trying to avoid complications. We-" He stopped as he saw who Starker had been kissing. "Hello, Fraulein King," he said, a strange expression on his face.  
  
Tara gazed at the tall man, who was attired in a leather jacket and turtleneck: his trademark apparel. His moustache made his countenance exceedingly debonair, and his scar was not imposing as it had been in the past but looked like something he had acquired in a well-fought battle. After dreaming about this encounter for the last several months, Tara did not know what to say.  
  
Conrad seemed unaffected by the sudden appearance of Tara. "Zat vig looks gut on you."  
  
Tara self-consciously touched her black wig that went down almost to her shoulders. "You said I looked like a German with long hair," she replied. She tried not to blush as she added, "May I come in?"  
  
"Oh, JA, JA!" Starker beckoned her to follow them.   
  
As they ventured down a dusty hallway, Siegfried asked, "How did you know vhere to find us, Miss King?"  
  
"Starker mailed me a letter with your new address and a map on how to get here."  
  
Siegfried glared at his brute and shouted, "Shtarker, didn't ve just have a discussion vhen Miss King first arrived about not bringing your girlfriends to zis building?"  
  
"Yes, but I sent zat letter before ve had zat conversation." Starker's logic was so simple it baffled Conrad.  
  
"Yes, but," sputtered Siegfried, "ve had zis discussion countless times, so . . ." He stared confusedly around himself, scratched his head, and muttered, "I give up; it's pointless to argue vith an ape like Shtarker."  
  
The trio had arrived at the sitting room, a chamber filled with cobwebs, dust bunnies, and broken furniture. Once they were situated as comfortably as possible, Siegfried enquired in German to Starker, "*Wurden sie mir bitte die teekanne holen*?"  
  
Starker diligently complied his boss' request and soon returned with a teapot and a tray laden with pastries. Siegfried almost smiled as he announced, "Ve vere just going to have our afternoon-"  
  
"Tea?" Tara finished, helping Starker place the tray on a filthy coffee table.   
  
"No-beer!" Conrad corrected. "Vould you care for some, Tara?"  
  
"No thank you; beer is not my cup of tea, figuratively speaking."   
  
Siegfried ceremoniously poured beer out of the teakettle into teacups for himself and his thug. He lifted the tray, waving it in front of Tara temptingly. "Vould you like somezing to eat, zen?"  
  
The weight of her job hung heavily upon her, taking away her appetite and leaving a rock in the pit of her stomach. "No, I don't think I could swallow anything."  
  
Conrad scowled as he tossed the platter back on the table. "That's the last time I'll ever be nice to anybody," he declared as he began to pout.  
  
Tara did not want to be responsible for the end of Siegfried's politeness, especially since this was such a recent development. "Actually, I'd love a-" she snatched a pastry from the plate and took a large bite-"Prune Danish." As the words registered, an indescribably disgusting taste filled her mouth. Of all the sweets, why did she have to pick the Prune Danish? In her opinion, prunes were rancid little fruit. She forced herself to chew, swallow, and take another bite.  
  
"The Prune Danish is an excellent choice," Siegfried remarked.  
  
Starker was pouring himself another cup of beer when Siegfried whirled to face him, his eyes flashing. "Shtarker, I get seconds first!"  
  
While they argued over that, Tara removed her hat and hid her Danish in the centre. She then placed the hat next to her on a broken couch. Looking innocent, Tara sneaked another pastry. This one was a piece of butter shortbread. She let the first bite melt in her mouth, but before she could eat any more, a hand grabbed the biscuit from her hands.  
  
"You'll get fat if you eat too many sweets," Siegfried lectured, stuffing her shortbread into his own mouth. "Now, vhy did you come here?"  
  
Tara cleared her throat before answering, "We-that is, Steed, Emma, the Smarts and I-need your help. Steed and Max-and their wives-somehow switched brains, and now Steed is stuck in that awful Mr. Smart's body, while the arch-criminals Basil and Lola are in Steed and Peel's body!"  
  
Her dialogue was convoluted, but Siegfried understood it perfectly.  
  
"So you vant me to help zat pigheaded Shmart unt your old lover, Shteed? Tell me, vhat vould possess me to do such a shtupid zing?"  
  
Tara was insulted at his reference that she and Steed were old lovers and was also dismayed that Siegfried wanted an explanation as to why he should assist his fellowman. "Putting your hostile opinions aside, the reason you should help is because it is the humane thing to do. You're intelligent, devious, and resourceful; so it should be easy for you to get the blueprints and the materials for the machine."  
  
"Your compliments are extremely true, but it doesn't make me vant to help. Shteed and Shmart have never come to my aide ven I needed it ze most! Zey just treat me like I am dirt, and maybe I really am. But it doesn't change the fact zat all my life I've never vanted much, yet I never got much." Siegfried paused, his breath coming in short gasps from having riled himself. "NO, I vill NOT help, and zat is final!"  
  
Tara tried to remain serene as she persisted, "You speak of Mr. Smart being pig-headed, yet here you are being just as, if not more, obstinate than he! What makes you think that the world revolves around you? It doesn't, and if you just realised that perhaps you would have more consideration for your fellowman! Think, Siegfried; there are so many people who could use your intellect and ingenuity. Why keep it all for yourself and KAOS?"  
  
Siegfried's head snapped to attention at the word KAOS. "Zat's another reason I can't assist your buddies: I am no longer a member of KAOS. I quit avhile ago after I had to endure Maxvell Shmart at my POW camp, Gitchee Goommee Noonee Wa-Wa. In fact, I'm considering joining the Canadian Mounties!"  
  
If it had been any other time, the thought of Siegfried dressed in the red Mounties uniform might have produced some giggles from Miss King, but she was terribly annoyed with him. "You self-centred, egotistical-"  
  
"Zat's redundant!" quipped Siegfried.  
  
"-selfish maniac!" finished the infuriated Tara. Her anger quickly dissolved into frustration and hopelessness. "I'm never speaking to you again, Conrad von Siegfried!" she choked, rising from her seat.   
  
"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?" Conrad replied mockingly.  
  
Tara did not respond but dashed blindly from the room, bumping into several walls and miscellaneous furniture as she went. She didn't hesitate for a moment until she was out the door. Then she halted, gazed back at the forlorn building, shook her head, and climbed into her rented vehicle.   
  
She was so distressed she began driving on the wrong side of the road. She was severely reprimanded by a very temperamental driver, who called her several unspeakable names before speeding down the street. She quickly swerved onto the correct side of the road and drove back to the hotel without any other inexcusable mistakes.  
  
Starker had been silent during his employer and Miss King's discourse, but after seeing his "love," flee from the room in such a distraught state, he had to speak his mind. "You are very mean to my gut friend."  
  
"Tell me somezing I don't know, Shtarker," Siegfried retorted.  
  
"You have no right to talk to anybody zat vay, especially Tara. Ich liebe sie, you know."  
  
Siegfried was quiet, contemplating his thug's words. Finally he sighed, a sigh that indicated defeat and regret. "I know zat too, Shtarker."  
  
"Vell, if you know zat, zen treat her vith a little more respect, if not for my sake for hers! I don't' vant you to scare her off and ruin my chance for happiness."  
  
Siegfried's mood altered, and he snapped, "Vhat gives you ze right to talk back to me?"  
  
"Vhat gives me the right to talk to you like zat is Tara's kindness and generosity towards me. I feel more like a human vith her zen I ever did vith you! I know you saved my life, and I zank you for zat! But Siegfried, you go too far zis time!" Starker stomped his foot emphatically then stormed from the chamber.  
  
"Even my own goon has betrayed me!" Siegfried cried incredulously. "I must be going mad!" Placing his head in his hands, he rose from his position on a moldy armchair. Then, an inexpressible urge possessed him, and before he realised what he had done, he threw the teapot against the wall with all the strength he could muster.  
  
The sound of it smashing did not ease his nerves as he had hoped. Siegfried sunk onto the sofa, trying to regain his bearings. He was loosing control, and he didn't like the feeling. His left hand brushed over something prickly and dry, and he glanced down to see Tara's straw hat next to him. In her rush, she had forgotten to take it with her. He gently picked it up, examining it thoughtfully. An object fell to the ground; it was the half-eaten Prune Danish.  
  
As he turned the hat over and over in his hands, Siegfried felt something tug at his conscience. He tried to ignore the mood, but it grew stronger with each interminable minute. Tara's declaration had wounded him internally in a place he hadn't known existed: his heart. Should he stop his pity-party and rejoin the human race, being as neighbourly as the next man? Even as he asked the question to himself, Conrad knew the answer.   
  
A look of resolve spread across his visage, and he rose to his feet, his black boots immediately stepping on the neglected Prune Danish and crumbling it into fine powder. Siegfried marched out of the room, his hand still clutching Tara's straw hat.  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
German Word Translations:  
  
JA, JA-- Yes, Yes  
  
Wurden sie mir bitte die teekanne holen-- Would you get the teapot for me?  
  
Sorry, if the German is not perfect. I'm a beginner! 


	4. Second Day Siegfried Chooses The Straigh...

Second Day  
  
With an elegant box of chocolate truffles in the nook of one arm and a bottle of champagne in the other, Tara entered her hotel suite in a disgruntled silence. She was planning to distract herself from the pain and misery by devouring the entire box of twenty-four chocolates and drinking the whole bottle of champagne. She knew she'd have a stomach ache and hangover afterwards, not to mention her gaining several unwanted pounds. But if it kept her mind occupied, what did she care? Nobody noticed the weight she'd lost and the pains she'd taken in looking classy and sweet.   
  
They still thought of her as Agent 69, the swinging sixties chick, fast, easy, and lush. Hadn't they figured out it was the seventies now, almost 1971? Didn't they realise she'd taken such pains to change her ways? It was evident nobody had noticed anything, so she would just revert to her old self.   
  
Tara stripped from her lovely attire and slipped into her silk, purple dressing gown with the feather cuffs. She practically ripped her wig off, letting her real shoulder-length hair** cascade to her shoulders. After she'd finished her undressing, Miss King slouched on her sofa and opened the bottle of champagne.   
  
She decided to just drink it straight from the bottle; nobody was there to see her look like a slob. She took her first sip and popped the first truffle in her mouth. As the taste of chocolate combined with the aftertaste of the alcohol, Tara thought about what she should tell Steed.  
  
She knew she had to tell them she'd failed-that she had misjudged Conrad Siegfried-but how could she break the news to them delicately? It seemed unfair just to blurt out, "Well, that selfish sadist refused to help us, so I guess you're stuck in these bodies forever." However, was there any other way to say it?  
  
As she stuffed her second chocolate into her mouth, the telephone began to ring. Tara ignored it; the call had to be from Steed, demanding to know how her meeting went. She would pretend she wasn't home, and Steed would have to assume she was still at Siegfried's hideout, enjoying his company. She savoured the taste of the truffle melting in her mouth for a brief second before taking another swig of her champagne to wash it down.  
  
Tara hugged one of the decorative pillows that adorned the couch. Tears of self-pity and reproach slid down her cheeks, but she didn't heed them. "What you need is another truffle," she told herself.  
  
It was more difficult to cram the third chocolate into her mouth, but she succeeded. By the forth truffle, Tara wondered how anybody could gorge themselves on such rich food. With the fourth chocolate still in her mouth, she was about to force herself to eat a fifth piece. She probably would have if there hadn't been a knock on her suite's door.   
  
Now Steed's coming to make sure I'm not home, she thought. Tara lethargically rose to her feet, the champagne bottle in her hand. Slowly she peered through the peep hole to see if it was indeed John Steed or one her other friends. To her consternation, it was Conrad Siegfried looking particularly dashing in a suit and holding her straw hat!  
  
*Good God, he mustn't know I've been stuffing my face with chocolate and deluding the pain with alcohol*, she mused. "Muff a mimin!" she shouted through the food in her mouth. She swallowed and tried her declaration again. "Just a minute, please!"  
  
Tara scampered back to the couch in search for the bottle's cork. She soon was crawling on her hands and knees, examining every cranny. She found the cork under the sofa and, after a quick sip to soothe her nerves, lodged the cork into the neck of the bottle. She then hid the liquor in one of the many drawers in her bedroom.   
  
The knocking was incessant now, but she still had to conceal the chocolate truffles. "I'm just getting out of the bathtub!" she lied. Hastily, she stuffed the chocolate box behind the sofa's pillow.  
  
Tara was about to open the door when she realised she might have chocolate smeared on her face. After a rapid swipe of the hand across the mouth, she yanked open the door.   
  
There stood Siegfried attired in a grey suit, blue bowtie, glasses, and grey derby hat. He glanced suspiciously around the hotel corridor before pushing past her into her room. "Whew nobody saw me, or recognised me!" he muttered. Putting on his wrathful gaze, he demanded, "Vhat took you so long? Zis disguise is not impregnable, you know." He removed his glasses and hat and after glancing disdainfully at them, tossed them onto the floor.  
  
"I forgot you're still a fugitive of the law," faltered Miss King.  
  
"I was about to leave vhen you finally answered ze door. How lucky for you, isn't it?" Siegfried placed her straw hat on an empty table then gazed at her superiorly.  
  
Tara exhaled, the idea of losing Siegfried again too inconceivable and alarming. Finally she spoke, "Won't you sit down?" She gesticulated towards the sofa, and Siegfried eased himself onto the couch right on top of the pillow that was concealing the truffles!  
  
CRUNCH!  
  
Siegfried bolted, regained his serenity, and lifted the pillow. He looked disgustedly at the crushed box. It appeared he was going to make a tactless comment on Tara's eating habits; so she lifted the box and asked, "Would you care for a chocolate?"  
  
"No, truffles are nasty zings, not worthy of consumption. Though I'm sure you had your fill of zem today, seeing how many are already missing from ze box."  
  
Abashed, Tara flung the box onto an adjacent chair and sat down next to Siegfried, who was back on the sofa. This procedure ruffled the feathers on her dressing-gown, causing several to sail into the air and land in awkward places, including Siegfried's mouth.   
  
He spat out the feathers, his eyes flashing so angrily Tara was certain he'd burn a hole in whatever object his eyes fastened on. Naturally, his eyes fixed firmly on her, but they quickly lost their enraged gleam. "I suppose you vonder vhy I decided to grace your presence?"  
  
Sagely ignoring this cheeky remark, Tara nodded.   
  
"Vell, I vas zinking, and it suddenly occurred to me I hadn't been to nice to my old friend, Tara King."  
  
"You suddenly decided this?" Tara asked sceptically.  
  
"Of, course, dummkopf, vhat vere you driving at?"  
  
Tara sighed and said, "Just continue your story, Siegfried."  
  
"Anyvay, I decided to . . . come over and-and," he took a deep breath before finishing, "help your friends get zeir bodies back."  
  
Tara immediately went in raptures, throwing her arms around the German before she could stop herself. More feathers went flying, once more coming to rest on Siegfried. This time he made no effort to remove them or Tara's arms. Once she had composed herself, Tara said, "I'm sorry for getting so emotional, especially since you abhor that sort of behaviour."  
  
"You can't help it really; if Shteed hadn't been so into love and romance you vouldn't have zose tendencies now. But Shteed alvays vas vone to get ze ladies under his shpell, and if zat meant turning zem into mushy, hugging, kissing fools, zat's vhat he'd do."  
  
"I am NOT a fool, nor is Steed all those things you called him!" shouted Tara indignantly.  
  
"You're a fool to defend him, especially vhen all I say is true. He used you abominably, and don't try to deny it!"  
  
"I suppose your treatment of me is far superior-the way you torture, insult and under-feed me is much better than being loved, kissed and embraced." Tara's voice dripped with sarcasm.  
  
"I haven't under-fed or tortured you since you vere mein prisoner," Siegfried protested. "At least I didn't lie to you and say I loved you vhen all I vanted out of you vas-"   
  
"You have some gall to point out all of Steed's faults when you have a great deal more than he-and at least his faults aren't physically abusive!"  
  
"Vell, zat's a debatable point!" Siegfried scoffed.  
  
Fury boiled inside Tara, and before she could control herself, she barked, "Get out of here, you-you KRAUT!" She expected Conrad to yell at her until he turned blue, but instead he became exceedingly quiet and sombre.  
  
"Oh, I undershtand," he spoke in a frighteningly low voice. "Ze truz is too painful for you to hear, so vhy bring it up?" His tone was becoming alarmingly hostile. "I should just speak about ardour and honour and promise never to leave you like good old Shteed vould." He grabbed her hand, stopping the circulation. "How's zis, my pet, do you prefer my loving mood?" He yanked her towards him with all the warmth of a snake, while Tara fought to get out of his clasp.  
  
"You had better let me go, or I swear I will start screaming!" Tara threatened. As his grasp grew tighter, she bit her tongue to keep back her ejaculation of pain. She remembered her other hand was free and in a rush of adrenaline, brought this hand across the left side of his face-the side with the scar.  
  
Siegfried cringed, dropped her hand, and gingerly prodded his face. His face ached even more since the scar was still tender. He glared at her, trying to ignore the cheek that was on fire. Then, he retaliated by slapping her face HARD.  
  
Tara felt her head spin, but before she could fall over she regained her balance. Her next action was instinctive; she hit his left cheek again, feeling her anger subside even as her hand began to sting. Noting the wrath in Siegfried's eyes, she anticipated his next move. When he raised his hand to strike, she gripped it and twisted it.  
  
Conrad yelped and wriggled out of her hold. His next movement caught Tara totally off guard; he flipped her onto the floor. She lay there, sprawled across the carpet, the wind knocked out of her. Tara was about to stand up when Siegfried attempted to pounce on her. She threw her feet out in time, kicking him in the stomach. Siegfried toppled backwards onto the chair where Miss King had tossed the chocolates. The truffles caved in under his weight, squirting the creamy chocolate on the seat of his pants.   
  
"You dummkopf, how could you ruin my suit?" Siegfried bellowed.  
  
Tara was in sitting position by now, panting and trying to foresee his next attack. She watched the feathers from her cuff flit through the air and land on her nose. As she blew them off, Siegfried hefted her off the ground and began carrying her around.  
  
"Where are you taking me, you oversized monkey?" she demanded, kicking and struggling.  
  
"Your other insult vas more effective, *Freundchen*," snarled the German.  
  
Tara had been learning German, so she understood the name he had called her. "If I'm your friend, why the bloody heck are we fighting?"  
  
"Isn't zis vhat *freunde* do, annoy each ozer to dez and zen make up?" He carried her into her bedroom and into the adjoining washroom. "Now let's see about zis baz you vere supposedly taking."  
  
"I drained the bathtub already," she lied.  
  
Siegfried nearly choked as he smelled her breath. "*Um Gottes willen*! You've been drinking as vell as stuffing your face vith chocolates? Vhere did you hide ze bottle, you shtupid voman?"  
  
Tara was determined not to answer any more of his inquiries no matter what the consequence. For her obstinacy, Siegfried dropped her into the tub and turned on the faucet. Tara yelped as the cold water splashed into the tub, quickly soaking her. He left her there as he went in search of the alcohol bottle. Several minutes later, a cry of triumph indicated that he had found it. Dripping and shuddering, Miss King stumbled out of the tub.  
  
Conrad entered again, dangerously waving the bottle in front of her face. "You can kill yourself if you drink too much!"  
  
"Coming from the leading expert on beer that is extremely funny," Tara retorted. "And I think you could kill me a whole lot easier by swinging that bottle into my face." She wrung out her robe all over the tile floor and noted the water flowing into the tiny crevices where the grout had worn away. "Are you done torturing me, Herr Siegfried?" she asked, adverting his eyes.  
  
Instead of making an apology or looking remorseful, Siegfried let out a bitter laugh. "I could have injured you much worse, cutie."  
  
Tara liked having Conrad address her as "cutie," she enjoyed having his arms around her when he carried her, and she was pleased that he was concerned about her drinking habit. So why did they have to fight every time they met? "Siegfried, can't we act like civilised human beings?"  
  
"Yes ve could," he began slowly, "but vhat would be ze fun in zat?" He chuckled at his joke as if he had never heard a more clever line in his life. He abruptly stopped when he realised Miss King did not share his enthusiasm. "Curse it, Tara, vhen I act like a 'normal' person you brush it off like it vas nozing!"  
  
"That ridiculous line was normal?" Tara enquired.   
  
Conrad threw the champagne bottle against the bathtub and stomped out of the room. Tara covered her face as shards flew into the air. When the pieces had settled around her feet, she gingerly stepped over them and likewise quitted the room. Her robe trailed water as she entered the living area. "Siegfried don't be irrational; it won't help our relationship."  
  
Conrad was sulking on the sofa but he acknowledged her presence by glancing up at her. Tara drew in a sharp breath as she noticed the wounded expression on his countenance. "Tara, you have no idea how difficult it is for me to remain calm and collected as you hurl one insult after anozer at me."  
  
"I didn't mean to offend you," she whispered, kneeling down next to him. She placed her hands on his knee in a kindly gesture.   
  
He looked at the slender hands that were adorned with silver nail polish. He followed the hands up the youthful face with the haunting blue eyes, dark eyelashes, silky brown trusses, and full lips. "Tara," he choked, "I . . . I don't belong here . . . vith you." Madness seemed to posses him as he stared at her beguiling eyes that were now brimming with tears. Strange thoughts were forming in his already addled brain. Why did she look at him that way, why did she have to be so enchanting?  
  
"Shtop shtaring at me!" he shouted. "Shtop shtaring at me," he repeated, his voice soft and quavering. Siegfried noticed his shoes were wet from where her robe had dripped on them. "*Um Himmels willen*, change your clozes before you freeze to deaz."  
  
Tara docilely rose to her feet and entered her bedroom, shutting the door. She slipped back in her sundress but decided not to put her wig on again. Once she was dressed, she returned to the living room.   
  
She expected Siegfried to make some reproving remark about how she would have never changed her clothes unless he had been there to goad her. But Conrad Siegfried did not make any such comment; he didn't even speak. In fact, Siegfried was gone!  
  
************  
  
The Steeds and Smarts were ecstatic when, later that night, Tara informed them that Siegfried would indeed help them get their bodies back. Though Miss King was grateful that Conrad was going to assist them, she could not share in her friends' elation. Siegfried's unexpected and silent departure earlier that day hurt her deeply. However, Tara knew that in order to keep her companions hopeful, she should continue her outward joyful behaviour. It was difficult, but she managed.  
  
"Now my only wish is that Katie would realise that I am her mother, even if I look different," Emma spoke in her new voice. She clutched Katherine tightly as if she was afraid the baby would walk out on her unless she produced the figure of Emma Peel in a matter of seconds.  
  
"I hope you'll get your wish, Mrs. Steed," Tara replied earnestly, "then at least some of us will be truly happy."  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
**Note: Linda Thorson's real hair was not shoulder-length. However, from certain scenes in the series, particularly one in "My Wildest Dream," I think Tara's hair is supposed to be long and she just wears short wigs.  
  
Freundchen-- My Friend  
  
Freunde-- Friends  
  
Um Gottes willen-- For God's Sake!  
  
Um Himmels willen-- For Heaven's Sake! 


	5. Third Day Starker Sings a Song

Third Day  
  
Steed gritted his teeth as Maxwell Smart went through the slow process of locking his door with the innumerable bolts and chains, literally inched to the white sofa, and made a ludicrous production of sitting down. John and Max were at the Smarts' apartment, trying to think clearly. They had been at the Steeds' hotel room until Katie started wailing. Emma had not been able to silence the child, and this had brought Mrs. Peel almost to the point of tears. Then 99 had realised that the babysitter she had hired for the twins had expected her and Max back an hour ago.  
  
Amidst this chaos, Steed and Max had agreed to go to the apartment to relieve the sitter of her duty and to discuss the dire predicament the four agents were in. The two men hoped to discover why Basil and Lola had switched everyone's bodies.  
  
That was why John Steed found himself waiting impatiently for Max to lock the door after the babysitter left and sit down. Once Agent 86 was done with this excruciatingly slow process, Steed spoke. "Do you have any ideas why Basil and Lola used this machine on us?"  
  
"No, they're your enemies. Shouldn't you know their every foible, what makes their evil brains work the way they do?"  
  
"I was hoping you at least had a suggestion!" Steed protested, his new nasal voice reaching a high pitch.  
  
"Why, when you hate me so much?"  
  
"I don't hate you; besides I was trying to make polite conversation."  
  
"We're supposed to be working, not socialising, Mr. Steed."  
  
"Then work, use your brain, come up with ideas." As he stared at the body of Basil, Steed felt his temples throb. The throbbing became even more acute when a thunderous knock sounded on the front door.   
  
Maxwell rose, but Steed checked him, saying, "I'm in your body, so shouldn't I, as master of this domain, answer the door?" As soon as Steed reached the door he suddenly wished he hadn't taken on this task. Now he had to unbolt all the locks Smart had just fastened minutes before.  
  
As the pounding continued, Steed hastily unbolted the door. He swung it open and was almost pummelled by an enormous fist, which was raised menacingly. Steed stepped backward, his eyes not leaving the would-be assailant. It took him several seconds to register that the enormous fist had not been raised to strike him but to knock on the door again.  
  
Steed surveyed the stranger in front of him; a man, swarthy and tall with a good-looking countenance and the most vapid expression etched across it.  
  
"Hello, Max," droned the man. "I came to see if you were feeling better. Chief told me of your metal breakdown yesterday, so I was a little concerned." These remarks were totally devoid of an emotion, and Steed wondered if this stranger really meant what he claimed.  
  
"Thank you for your concern, but we're all fine!" Steed realised the man was no longer gazing at him but at Smart on the sofa.  
  
A whistling noise seem to emerge from the tall man's coat pocket. "Warning, Max, enemy agent in your domain!" The main shoved John unto the floor, knocking the wind out of him. He proceeded to heft Max onto his shoulders and carry him to the front door.  
  
"Stop, Hymie, it's me Max; I'm in Basil's body!" cried Agent 86.  
  
"Then who was the one who answered the door?"  
  
"That was Mr. John Steed, that man I told you about, remember?"  
  
The large man, or Hymie, paused to meditate on these words. "You could be lying," he said, but he set Max back on the ground.  
  
"I'll prove it to you, old friend. I'll tell you something nobody else would know about except you and me." Max cracked his knuckles, as if that might give him an inspiration. "I know: I hid you at my apartment once when Chief wanted to destroy you."  
  
"The whole of CONTROL and KAOS knows that story." Waiting for a feasible answer, Hymie blinked.  
  
"Well, we once got stuck in a closet together," Max ventured. "Oh Hymie, you've just got to believe me!" He sank onto what he thought was the couch. However, Hymie had carried him several feet from the sofa; so all Max sank into was air, and it didn't hold him. He landed hard on the floor next to Steed.  
  
"It is really you, Max!" exclaimed Hymie, his voice the nearest thing to joy. He helped Max in his Basil body to his feet, brushed him off, and hugged him.  
  
Max nearly choked, but he managed to pull away in time. The fact that he had almost passed out didn't seem to disturb him; the massive hug did. "Please, not in front of my guest!" he begged, flushing.  
  
Steed rose from the floor and scrutinised the pair guardedly. "Who is this Hymie fellow?" he demanded.  
  
"I am a former KAOS agent, whom Max reformed," uttered Hymie.  
  
"He's a robot, the best in the business," Mr. Smart bragged.  
  
"I will not rest until you have your own bodies back," promised the automaton.  
  
Despite not having come to any conclusions as to why Lola and Basil had done what they did, Steed flashed his genuine smile at the robot. At least they had one more ally.  
  
***************  
  
Oh, komm doch,  
  
Komm zu mir,  
  
Du nimmt mir der Verstand.  
  
Oh, komm doch,  
  
Komm zu mir,  
  
Komm gib mir deine Hand.  
  
Komm gib mir deine Hand.  
  
Komm gib mir deine Hand.  
  
Starker's off-key voice lilted through the hideout. He clearly was dreaming of the voluptuous Miss King as he sang his robust rendition of the Beatles' "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." He finished his job of stacking three crates of beer in the centre of the room. As he handed a bottle to his boss, he sang:  
  
Oh, du bist so schön,  
  
Schön wie ein Diamant,  
  
Ich will mit dir gehen,  
  
Komm gib mir deine Hand.  
  
Komm gib mir deine Hand.  
  
Komm gib mir deine Hand.  
  
In deinen Armen bin ich glücklich und froh;  
  
Das war noch nie bei einer andern  
  
Einmal so.  
  
Einmal so.  
  
Einmal so . . .  
  
  
  
Siegfried covered his ears with his oily hands and shouted, "Shut up zis instant!" When the goon quieted, he continued working on the brain-switching machine. Conrad consulted the blueprints; scratched his chin, leaving a black grease mark; and shook his head. "According to zis shloppy plan the coils should run outside of the machine, but you must put all ze electrical cords inside for safety reasons. Vhat vas zis scientist drinking when he designed zese blue prints!" he cried in frustration, gripping his sparse hair while still holding the neck of his now half-empty beer bottle.  
  
"Siegfried, if you're going to give up now, can I shtart singing again?" Starker asked hopefully.   
  
"I am not GIVING UP, undershtand? Only cowards give up zis early in ze game, unt I am not a coward-zough people may tell you I am."  
  
Starker stuck out his lower lip in an obvious pout.   
  
"Come now, Starker, you mustn't look so glum when you're doing such a noble service for England and America," came the feminine British accent of Miss Tara King. She stepped into the room, a bare area with wooden tables and tools scattered everywhere.  
  
As he spotted Tara, Herr Starker's pouting immediately stopped. He cleared his voice before belting out:  
  
Oh, komm doch,  
  
Komm zu mir,  
  
Du nimmt mir der Verstand.  
  
Oh, komm doch,  
  
Komm zu mir,  
  
Komm gib mir deine Hand.  
  
Komm gib mir deine Hand.  
  
Komm gib mir deine Hand.  
  
Before he could continue, Tara clapped her hands enthusiastically. "I didn't know you had such a talent for singing!" she nearly cooed.  
  
Siegfried looked up from his work, glaring jealously at the thug who had captured Miss King's full attention by singing off-key. "Show-off," he muttered. "Who's ze vone really helping her friends? Ze guy who isn't getting any consideration," he answered his own question. Tossing the empty liquor bottle unto the floor, he grabbed another beer and went back to work.  
  
Tara was pleased that Siegfried was becoming so envious. Did that mean he admired her more than he would say? In her opinion, he deserved feeling jealous for his underhanded behaviour yesterday. She smiled politely, acknowledging his presence but not talking. She'd punish him a little longer, or until he apologised. Tara should have realised it wouldn't be that simple.  
  
"So vhat brings you to our humble abode . . . again?" Siegfried asked caustically. He sipped his drink with all the indifference of a judge, but his eyes showed he really was interested in the answer.  
  
Tara's mouth went dry as she tried to come up with a feeble excuse. She didn't want to let Starker in on their conversation, especially since she was going to be asking personal questions. Finally she said, "I just wanted to know if you had gotten the blueprints and materials for the machine, and I am astonished at the fact that you already have everything! How did you pull it off? I thought for sure that KAOS would be angry at you for barging into the headquarters after having quit."  
  
"KAOS vouldn't dare shpeak to me zat vay after I vas zeir Vice-President! I just demanded that they give me the papers, or face ze vrath of Ludvig von Siegfried!" Whether this was true or not was a mystery to Tara and Starker.   
  
"I am glad that you came, Tara," Siegfried admitted.  
  
Tara felt her heart beat faster, but she chose to ignore it for the present. "Why is that, do you supposed?" she enquired shyly.  
  
"Vell, for shtarters, it has to do vith ze payment you owe me for undertaking zis dangerous task."  
  
"We didn't discuss payment yesterday!" Tara protested.  
  
"Ve vere a little preoccupied, as I recall," he returned pointedly. "Now, I've already began making zis contraption, but unless I get vone or more of ze following payments, I vill not continue."  
  
"And what do you want?"  
  
Conrad recited his list very nonchalantly. "I vant a million dollars, unlimited beer for ze rest of my life or-"  
  
"Where am I supposed to get a million dollars?" Tara gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her.  
  
"Vhy don't you ask zat dumpy establishment, CONTROL for it-oh wait, zey don't have any money! Oh, zat's just ze saddest news!" Siegfried guzzled the rest of his beer and grabbed a third one.  
  
"My friends and I can get several thousand dollars together if you like, and I could promise you unlimited beer."  
  
"I don't vant a zousand bucks; I vant millions. I do accept your offer for the beer, but zat's not enough to keep me vorking . . ."  
  
"What was the other thing you wanted?" Tara asked in desperation.  
  
"I vant to rule ze whole vide vorld!"  
  
"CONRAD VON SIEGFRIED, you know as well as I do that there is no possible way I can give you the world!"  
  
"It vouldn't hurt you to try!" snapped the indignant German. "At least I'm trying to fix your friends' predicament!"  
  
"But you're doing it for such an incredible price that it's impossible to pay!" At this point Tara was on the verge of tears. "Look, I'll give you anything else, except the world and the millions-anything."   
  
Conrad lifted his head and let out a cruel laugh. "Do you hear zat, Shtarker: Miss King is offering her heart, soul, and everyzing else for ze cause! It's too bad I'm not interested!"  
  
"That's not what I meant!" With the sound of Siegfried's chuckling resonating through the room, Tara fled the building. It was only when she was halfway to her car that she realised she was doing exactly what she had done last time, exactly what Siegfried wanted her to do. "I won't give you the satisfaction of making me leave again, Conrad Siegfried," she muttered as she headed back to the hideout.  
  
Starker frowned at the sniggering Siegfried before declaring, "You have hurt mein leibling vonce again! I'll hate you for ze rest of my life!" He stalked to his "bedroom," a measly cubicle with a cot and a file cabinet for his personal belongings.  
  
Siegfried finished his third beer and added it to his pile on the floor. He reached for his fourth bottle from the crate but was surprised when a hand checked him. "Miss King, I zought you had left!" he exclaimed, only slurring his words twice  
  
"I figured I'd ought to stay to monitor your alcohol intake," she replied. "Besides, I wasn't done speaking to you when I so foolishly stormed out." There was no time for frivolities; she dove right into the heart of the matter. "Why did you leave so rudely yesterday without a word or warning?"  
  
  
  
"I vas tired and needed to go home to shleep!" faltered Conrad. When Tara gave him a glare so frightening it raised the hairs on his neck, he said lamely, "I zought ve vere done talking, so I left."  
  
  
  
"You know what the real problem was and is? You are frightened of being pleasant to people, because you're afraid they'll disappoint you, maybe even hate you!"  
  
  
  
Siegfried took a swig of his beer, his eyes growing wide. "Did you just call me a coward?"  
  
  
  
Tara felt herself sinking into a hole from which she could not escape. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying, you yellow-bellied dummkopf!"   
  
  
  
Siegfried nearly turned purple with fury as her words registered in his inebriated brain. "I am not a coward!" he choked. In an attempt to irk her, he gulped down more beer. His endeavour did peeve her, for Tara snatched the bottle from his hand and smashed it on the concrete floor.  
  
  
  
"And how are you supposed to build this machine if you're drinking like a fish?" she screamed. She grabbed one of the three bottles from the floor and threw that against the wall. She repeated the process with the other two.  
  
  
  
Siegfried stared at her agape then hiccupped. He had never witnessed such violent conduct from Miss King before. When Tara took a full beer bottle from the crate, he managed to find his voice. "No, don't vaste my beer, please! I promise I von't insult you again!"  
  
  
  
Tara was past reconciling with. She tossed the beer bottle into the air, watching it come crashing down on the floor. "I can't believe anything you say, Siegfried!" she cried, hurling another bottle onto the concrete.  
  
  
  
"Leave my beer alone, I beg of you!" Conrad entreated in a very un-Siegfried-like way. The alcohol seemed to have taken full effect, slowing his mind.  
  
  
  
Tara aimed the next bottle to hit the wall an inch above Siegfried's head. Her aim was exactly correct, and Siegfried ducked as shards of glass and beer sprayed everywhere. He gaped at her in horrified fascination until he finally regained his domineering manner. Then he yelled, "Now you have to pay for my unlimited beer and for replacement for the beer you just vasted!" He crowed, certain she would now cease her crazed behaviour.  
  
  
  
"I'm quite aware of that, but thanks for warning me!" Tara exclaimed cheerfully. She lifted another beer bottle above her head, but Siegfried had had enough.  
  
  
  
"Don't you dare drop zat!" he bellowed as he ran up to stop her. Unfortunately, he couldn't walk very well due to the intake of liquor, thus he stumbled into the three crates. The top one tumbled over, spilling its entire contents on the floor. The beer bottles cracked from the pressure, and the liquid went everywhere.   
  
  
  
Startled, Tara dropped the beer bottle. Then, she did the most unthinkable thing: she started to laugh. "Oh my, I can see why you destroy things, Siegfried. It certainly releases tension!" Tears streamed down her face, and she braced herself against the wall as another convulsion of laughter took over her.  
  
  
  
Miss King's hysterical laughter petrified Siegfried more than her violent outburst. "If you don't stop, I'll-I'll do something desperate!" Siegfried threatened feebly. He glanced around the room until his eyes rested on a huge wrench that was lying next to the machine. The wrench was so heavy he had to hold it with both hands. He lifted the wrench as if to strike the machine and smash it to pieces.  
  
  
  
"No, don't destroy your handiwork!" Tara cried, regaining her sanity.   
  
  
  
Siegfried paused, his elbows buckling from the weight of the wrench. "You're right; I should deshtroy somzing less valuable, like zis!" He brought the wrench crashing down on the second crate of beer.  
  
  
  
It was such an unexpected action that Tara burst into giggles again. She slid down the wall onto the floor, barely avoiding sitting on a shard of glass. Tara felt giddy, and she didn't know if it was because she had finally cracked after being extremely stressed, or because she was inhaling the strong smell of beer. She finally concluded it was a mixture of both.  
  
  
  
"Making me lose my grip and vasting zis expensive beer is not funny!" protested Conrad. He gazed at Tara King, who was holding her sides and chortling. "You're completely insane!" He hiccoughed, and he almost lost his grasp on the wrench.  
  
  
  
"You started all this, you know."  
  
"I did no such zing!"  
  
"Who's the one who came to my suite yesterday and broke my champagne bottle? Face it, Siegfried, you inspired me!" Tara began giggling again, much to the consternation of Herr Siegfried.  
  
He stared at the lass, whose hair and apparel were dripping with liquor; he sniffed the air, which was permeated with beer; and surveyed the room, which had debris of beer bottles scattered across the floor. Suddenly, nothing seemed serious any more. "It really is not . . . funny!" Before he could contain his mirth, Siegfried started guffawing. He threw the wrench over one of his shoulders and laughed louder than Miss King.  
  
The two stood or sat for several pleasurable moments, snickering, getting composed, and then chuckling all over again. They wiped tears from their eyes as best as they could, but laughter wracked their bodies, making it difficult to get their hands anywhere near their faces.   
  
Tara was about to comment that they ought to clean up the wreckage when an astonished voice asked, "Vhat happened here?"  
  
Tara perceived that Starker was standing in the doorway, opened mouth. She immediately rose to her feet, blushing and mumbling her apologies to whomever. Siegfried was still looking at Tara, for he did not want Starker to see him break into a grin every few seconds. Once his joviality had subsided, he whirled to face the thug.   
  
Siegfried never understood why he was carrying the wrench on his shoulder, nor why he did not remove it when he turned. All he knew was that when he twisted, the end of the wrench smacked something that was unstable. Out of the corner of his eye, Conrad watched this something or someone stumble to the ground. As he twirled to see who or what he had hit, a sinking feeling filled his stomach. There face down on the floor was Tara, looking very dead.  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
Author's Note: I apologise if the German in the song is not very accurate. I got those words from a website. 


	6. Second Afternoon Siegfried Apologises!

Second Afternoon  
  
Siegfried was kneeling beside Tara in less than a nano-second. "Tara, please shpeak to me!"  
  
Despite his entreaty, Tara King did not stir-she did not seem to hear. Seeing she was at least breathing, Siegfried examined her wounds. He gently felt the bruise on her head and was relieved to discover it was not bleeding. Since she was lying face down, he lifted her and cradled her in his arms. He was comforted in the fact that no sharp fragment of glass had imbedded itself into her body, especially in her face.   
  
"Tara, mien liebli-freundchen, please revive!" The pain and desperation in Conrad's voice frightened Starker, who was not accustomed to his boss getting so emotional. "I'll finish the machine for free, no beer, no millions . . . okay, for several zousands."  
  
Tara was in an inky blackness, struggling to get free. She was swimming quickly yet getting nowhere. Through the mugginess she heard Conrad's voice cajoling her to return to him, speaking softly and tenderly. Miss King was certain she was dreaming, for Siegfried would never speak to her in such a beseeching tone. Then she heard someone calling her liebling almost inaudibly. The voice belonged to Siegfried, but he wouldn't ever call her his "love!"  
  
Tara was becoming irritated at the darkness that consumed her. She fought to get out, and finally with a gasp, she opened her eyes. Siegfried's face, all sober and rigid, was the first thing she saw. His swaggering and stammering, the effects of the alcohol, had vanished.  
  
"Tara can you talk?" As the idea that Tara might be a vegetable crossed his mind, Siegfried gulped. He gripped her harder than before, panicking when she yelped from the pressure.  
  
Tara found it difficult to believe that she was awake. She was in Conrad's arms once again, and he was actually concerned about her welfare. She closed her eyes, revelling in his strong hold.  
  
"Gut Gott, you're going to die on me!" murmured Siegfried, trembling so that the words wobbled as they escaped his parched lips. "I'm sorry, so sorry, darlin-" He did not finish but choked on the word.  
  
Miss King decided she'd ought to ease his mind. She was not dying; in fact she'd never felt more alive, regardless of the fact that there was an acute pain in her head. Her eyelids fluttered open again, and whether it was due to the joy in her heart, or because the smell of beer was still strong, she chose to play with Siegfried's mind. "Siegfried?" she whispered faintly.  
  
Conrad leaned towards her face eagerly. "Yes, cookie?"  
  
"You have beer breath!" Tara giggled.  
  
Conard went into a temporary state of shock. He recovered and snapped, "You frighten me to deaz zen you tell me I have beer breaz? Vhat is vrong vith you?"  
  
Tara gave him her most apologetic gaze. "Do forgive me, but I had to make sure you were really Siegfried. Some of your talk reminded me more of Starker than of you."  
  
Realising the implication of her remark, Siegfried turned crimson. "It really is me, so shtop being annoying."  
  
"Did you mean everything you said?" Tara whispered, hoping with all her heart for an affirmative answer.  
  
Siegfried hesitated before replying, "Yes, especially the part about ze payment. I knew from ze very beginning zat I vas being greedy, but at ze time I couldn't help myself. Unt I apologise now for my misconduct."  
  
"You what?" exclaimed Tara and Starker simultaneously.  
  
Siegfried seemed to have just noticed Starker's presence. "Shtarker, fetch me zat first aid kit!"  
  
"But vhy? She's not bleeding on her head, she has no cuts, she . . ."  
  
"Do not ask questions, you insolent Gensidel! Just do vhat you're told, or else you might find zat you're ze vone in need of the first aid kit!"  
  
Tara suppressed a smile as the bewildered Starker went in search of a kit. She shut her eyes and leaned her head against Siegfried's shoulder.  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
Author's Note: I AM SO SORRY THAT I HAVE NOT UPDATED FOR AGES! I promise I will try to finish this before I go to college in the fall. 


End file.
